ance stopped, and asked what was the matter. 'Oh,' was the reply, 'this coon is such a bother to me.' "Why don't you get rid of him, then?' said the gentleman.

"Hush,' said the boy, ing his rope off? I am and then I will go home away from me.'"

'don't you see he is gnawgoing to let him do it, and tell the folks he got

Mr. Lincoln continued: "This talk about Mr. Davis tires me. I hope he will mount a fleet horse, reach the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, and drive so far into the waters that we shall never see him again."

Mr. Lincoln's wise and merciful policy of granting amnesty to all rebels except a few of the most culpable leaders and not to make a special effort to secure their persons was undoubtedly the best that could have been put in force, yet it could not have been wholly popular. When the people of the North reflected upon the war which had been brought on by the South, and the terrible cost of it, both in resources and human life, they felt that leniency was not a virtue, but rather a condoning of crime. The men who had desolated their homes and all but ruined their country should be made an example of so that in the future all such efforts would be discouraged. Had Lincoln lived he would have encountered much opposition and adverse criticism. He might have found a large wing of his own party opposed to his policy. Yet his persistence and carelessness of opposition, when he had once decided upon a policy, would undoubtedly have enabled him to overcome all opposition, and, in the end, carry into

operation the policy which had, to some extent, been outlined in the States already partially reconstructed. So far as it is possible to forecast the future from the past, it is certain that if he had lived, many of the unfortunate complications would have been avoided which were destined to leave a lasting impress upon the South in sectional bitterness perpetuated in crippled prosperity, and a general feeling of distrust between the sections which two and a half decades have scarcely been able to heal.

But it is useless to speculate as to what might have been. It is certain that there was no moment in his whole career so fitted to bring about his apotheosis. Had he lived longer his career might have been clouded by adverse circumstances over which he could have had no control; for it is well known that, when a country is at war, in a condition of great peril, all the diverse elements are concentrated to the support of a government, which, in times of peace, many of them would violently oppose. Hence much might have occurred to tarnish his brilliant reputation and lower him from the high place to which his successful conduct of the war had raised him. The bullet struck him at the zenith of his glory. The war was ended. The country was once more united. The fresh woven wreath of victory was on his temples. The country rejoiced in its preservation and revered him as its preserver. Riding on the crest of the tidal wave of success naught but the martyr's crown could add to his laurels. It came, and Lincoln's memory was forever enshrined in the hearts of his countrymen. It is heartrending to think of the great chief, bearing all the terrible burden of the conflict and passing

hence just when the fruits of the victory were to be enjoyed; the pilot, bringing the ship safely into port through raging tempests and opposing tides but not permitted to step upon the solid land of peace and

union.

Yet it was not his loss. The earthly crown he laid aside for a brighter and eternal one. He left the field of battle for the realms of everlasting peace. The tired head and weary heart were forever at rest.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE season of rejoicing had come. For the moment the gloom and darkness which had overspread the land had been dispelled. The cruel war was over. No longer would the papers be scanned eagerly, yet with sickening dread to find the news of some battle and tidings of dear ones overwhelmed, perchance, by the crimson tide of war. Gayly the old flag floated from every masthead. Joy and gladness abounded. Friends joyfully greeted each other, the smile of gladness breaking over faces even yet suffused with tears. But amid the blare of trumpets and the sounds of martial music, amid the clanging chimes and ringing cheers, might be heard the monotone of tolling bells and the sobs of a country about to be bereft of its ruler.

As sometimes on a summer's day a dark cloud passes quickly over the face of the sun, and its black shadow falls upon the earth, rejoicing in the brilliancy of day, like a pall upon the landscape, gliding over the distant hillsides, approaching noiselessly, perhaps unseen, until suddenly it covers the whole champaign with its sable mantle, leaving in its wake darkness and gloom, where but a moment before had been all light and joy and peace. So now amid the festivities and rejoicing, when all fears had been laid aside and naught of harm was dreaded, the shadow

of death was fast approaching. Already it was gliding down the distant hillsides and none saw it. Its sable folds were growing thicker and blacker as it approached, and yet the sun was shining never more brightly. So sudden was the transition from hope to despair, from joy to mourning.

His last day was a memorable one and largely free from the care and anxieties which had weighed him down with their burdens in the days and months that had passed. He had often been oppressed by premonitions and forebodings, but to-day he caught no glimpse of the shadow so close upon him. He was in exceptionally good spirits and was already beginning to enter with keen zest upon the new duties and questions suggested by the closing war. In the morning the family lingered long at the breakfasttable listening to a description of Lee's surrender given by Robert Lincoln, who had just returned from the front on a short furlough. He had been present at the historic scene and gave many details which the President had not before heard, and in which he was deeply interested.

After breakfast, he proceeded to his office, where he despatched some routine business and received a number of calls from Senators and Representatives, and from one or two of his old Illinois friends, all anxious to congratulate him upon the glorious close of the war. He greeted them all with cordiality, and afterwards went out for a short drive with General Grant, who was spending a few hours in Washington on business connected with the army. The sight of the illustrious General and his still more illustrious chief, was greeted with enthusiastic cheers, which